


Three Christmases

by bananamuffin



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananamuffin/pseuds/bananamuffin
Summary: Somehow, every Christmas with Jeff manages to be better than the last.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WrittenFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenFire/gifts).



> this is a late Christmas gift (i'm sorry) based on a couple Christmasy prompts: "YES I BOOBY TRAPPED THE PRESENTS BECAUSE YOU DO THIS EVERY FUCKING YEAR”, “we were playing in the snow and you suddenly tackled me to the ground and now…we’re just…staring… at each other…”, “YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE? WHY DO YOU HATE LOVE”, and TREE DECORATING (bonus points if one of them is doing it completely wrong omg why am i in love with you).  
> I was only supposed to pick one but my brain was not satisfied with ONE happy richiecarts scenario so...I did them all

2007

It takes until the first week of December for the first snow to arrive in Philadelphia. Even though Mike spent last Christmas here with the Flyers, he’s still not used to the snow coming so late in the year—it’s been snowing back home for months already, his dad keeps sending him pictures of the yard covered in fresh powder every morning. Mike has no problem with the cold but if it has to be _that_ cold, then it should _at least_ be snowing.

“Richie, get in the car already,” Jeff mutters grumpily at him after their game on the day of first snowfall. “It’s cold.”

Mike rolls his eyes and resists the urge to remind Jeff that he’s from Canada, he knows what real cold is like. “C’mon Cartsy, we beat the Caps _and_ it’s finally snowing,” Richie says. He’s really not sure how this day could have gone better.

Jeff mumbles something incoherent in Mike’s direction which Mike doesn’t quite hear, but he gets the gist. He follows Jeff to the car and Mike chatters the whole way home, too excited about the game and the snow to let Jeff’s sourness toward the snow bring him down.

But Jeff’s mood lifts as the car gets warmer and once they’re home, his mood better matches Mike’s, though he still isn’t excited about trudging through the snow to their apartment building. He sits in the car a moment after he’s parked, watching Mike wearily through the window.

“Cartsy, you have the keys,” Mike says, because really, it’s not a long walk from their parking spot to their building and half of it is covered and snow-free. When Jeff still doesn’t move Mike opens the driver side door and pulls him out by his hand. Jeff resists at first but then relents, locking the car with the fob as Mike pulls him at jog under the cover of their building.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Mike asks, squeezing Jeff’s hand and laughing at the affronted look Jeff is wearing. “It was like 15 feet, Jeff.”

Jeff pulls a face at him, wrinkling his nose, and then shakes his head. Small flakes of snow fall out of his hair and Mike laughs at him, but reaches up with his free hand and runs a hand through Jeff’s hair to get the last of the snow out.

Mike is surprised that Jeff is still holding his hand. There’s always a point when Jeff draws back, steps away from Mike or drops his gaze.

But Jeff just smiles, warm and content, and pulls Mike along by his hand to the elevator. He only lets go to unlock their door and Mike tries not to miss the contact.

“Night, Richie,” Jeff says and Mike thinks, _There it is_ ¸ but Jeff gives him a small, shy smile before he goes into his room.

“Night, Cartsy,” Mike calls after him, smiling to himself and feeling warm inside.

But as much as Mike enjoyed the first day of snowfall in Philly, he still hasn’t really gotten to enjoy the snow by the time they reach their three day break for Christmas. He rummages through Jeff’s dresser on Christmas morning while Jeff stares at him, occasionally protesting (more for show than any real belief that Mike will stop, he figures) and pulls out the warmest clothes he can find. He adds a jacket and a pair of gloves from the closet and calls, “Don’t forget your boots!” over his shoulder as he leaves Jeff to get himself ready.

They meet in the kitchen fifteen minutes later and Mike does his best not to laugh at Jeff’s overly large winter jacket.

“You told me to wear it!” Jeff says shortly but he’s fighting a smile that tells Mike he’s not too upset about it.

“I didn’t want to hear you complaining again,” Mike says and then, tired of wasting time he could be out in the snow, he grabs Jeff’s hand and pulls him out the door.

They go to the park next to their apartments, which is, to Mike’s pleasant surprise, empty of any children and people from the complex. It’s still snowing but not hard enough that it’s unpleasant, so Mike pulls Jeff out past the playground and ignores his halfhearted grumbling.

“Are we just gonna stand here?” Jeff asks. Mike sighs.

He’s still holding Mike’s hand though, so Mike reigns in the first sarcastic remark that comes to mind. Instead he says, “Let me bask in it, Cartsy,” closes his eyes and turns his face up to the sky, letting the flakes drift over his skin.

Jeff makes a noise but he squeezes Mike’s hand. When Mike looks back at Jeff the look on Jeff’s face is soft. He lifts his free hand to wipe snow from Mike’s cheeks and the warm contact feels nice against Mike’s cold skin.

Mike closes his eyes again, to fully take in the happiness that the snow and Jeff in the snow are currently bringing him, and a few moments later, a ball of snow hits him in the shoulder.

He opens his eyes in time to see another snow ball hit him in the chest, the powdery snow falling apart easily when it hits him. He hears Jeff laugh and finds him several feet away, already working on another snow ball.

“No, no way,” Mike says. He quickly gathers snow into a ball as Jeff throws one that narrowly misses Mike’s shoulder. Mike throws his, satisfied as it hits Jeff in the arm. He’s gathering snow for the next one when he’s hit with two more.

Mike looks up and sees Jeff smirking at him, holding two ready made snow balls in his hand.

Mike has been in enough snow ball fights in his life to know when to make a timely retreat, and promptly spins on his heel and takes off running.

He can hear Jeff behind him, laughing as he follows Mike. One snowball hits him in the foot but the second gets him in the back. He stops running—Jeff is out of snow balls, which means Mike has time to retaliate if—

“Oof,” Mike lets out as Jeff tackles him to the snow. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t hurt and the snow kicks up around Mike’s face, making it hard to see Jeff. He can feel him though, his arms bracketing Mike’s and his knees on either side of Mike’s knees. When the snow clears, Jeff is smiling down at him.

“Caught you,” Jeff says in a smug, satisfied tone. Mike huffs, pretending to be annoyed, but then he laughs. It’s nice that Jeff is enjoying the snow, even if it means Mike has to mildly suffer for it.

“Yeah, yeah, you can get off now,” Mike says with a smile. He pushes lightly at Jeff’s arm but Jeff doesn’t move. He’s still looking down at Mike, his smile fading. Mike can practically hear his brain working and waits for the moment when Jeff pulls abruptly away, leaving Mike cold on the ground. When it doesn’t come, he says, “Cartsy, dude, let me up.”

Jeff sighs and rolls his eyes, a reaction that Mike gets often from him. And then he quickly dips down to kiss Mike.

“Oh,” Mike says when Jeff pulls back to look at him. Jeff looks slightly worried, his brow furrowed, so Mike reaches up and tugs Jeff down by the collar of his jacket. “About time, dude,” he says before kissing Jeff again. Jeff makes an annoyed noise but he’s smiling against Mike’s lips.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” Mike says when they part again. “But,” he gestures at the snow around them, “I’m getting kind of cold.”

“Thought you liked the cold,” Jeff says with a smirk, but he gets up when Mike hits his shoulder. Jeff takes his hand, both of their gloves wet from the snow, and holds it all the way back to the apartment.

“What do you mean you don’t like marshmallows in your hot chocolate?” Jeff asks Mike incredulously twenty minutes later. He’s got two mugs of hot chocolate on the counter between them and he’s holding the bag of marshmallow’s protectively in his hands.

Mike shrugs. “They get all melty and gooey in the chocolate. It’s gross.” He reaches for his marshmallow-free mug but Jeff tugs it just out of reach. He looks offended.

“Marshmallows make hot chocolate _better_ ,” Jeff says indignantly, clutching the marshmallows to his chest.

Mike reaches for his mug again and this time he’s faster than Jeff. He takes a sip of it and makes a long, drawn out “Mmm” noise. Jeff looks on in slight horror.

“I can’t believe I like you,” Jeff grumbles. He drops a few more marshmallows into his mug, presumably to make up for the lack of marshmallows in Mike’s.

“You love me,” Mike says with a grin. He takes another drink and watches Jeff pull a face, sticking his tongue out at Mike.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeff says. He sounds fond. “Just shut up and drink your inferior hot chocolate.”

Mike smiles again. The hot chocolate is warming him from the inside out, he can see the snow falling from their living room window, and Jeff is looking at him the way he hardly ever does when Mike is looking back.

He’s pretty sure it’s his best Christmas in a while.

 

 

2012

“What are you doing?”

Mike freezes, hand hovering a few inches above the Christmas tree. The gold ball dangles from the hook he’s holding between his fingers. “What?”

“You can’t put that right there,” Jeff says with a mildly exasperated sigh. “There’s a gold one in that area already.”

Mike stares at him. “So?”

“So,” Jeff huffs, reaching over to take the ornament from Mike’s hand. Mike pretends to resist, turning slightly so that Jeff has to press up against his back and use his longer reach to pry the ball from Mike’s fingers. “You have to spread them out. Put a hockey stick there, or a snowflake.” Jeff gestures at the boxes of ornaments and decorations he’d set out behind them. On top is a small box, open to reveal white and glittering cardboard snowflakes. Next to it is a box of mini ornamental hockey sticks.

“Hockey sticks? Really, Jeff?” Mike teases. Jeff glares at him from out of the corner of his eyes as he swaps Mike’s gold ornament for a hockey stick and hands it over.

“Just put it up,” Jeff says firmly. He picks up a snowflake and disappears on the other side of the tree.

Mike rolls his eyes and turns to share a look with Arnie, who’s laying on the couch and watching them. When Mike looks at him, Arnie barks, perking up slightly.

“I know, I know,” Mike says, turning back to the tree. “Just gotta do what he wants sometimes.”

Sometime later Mike leaves Jeff to put the tinsel on the tree. He’d just get in Jeff’s way and tinsel is a lot harder to fix than ornament placement, so he goes to the kitchen to make them hot chocolate and to get Arnie some whip cream.

When he comes back to the living room, Jeff is standing on the side of the tree that Mike had decorated. The tinsel lays at his feet, unopened, and he has a hockey stick ornament in his hand.

“What are _you_ doing?” Mike asks. Jeff tenses and when he turns to look at Mike, he’s wearing a guilty expression.

“I was just adding another hockey stick,” Jeff says, trying and failing to sound innocent.

“You were rearranging what I did,” Mike accuses, using one of the mugs of hot chocolate to point at him. “I brought you hot chocolate _with_ marshmallows and you’re rearranging my half of the tree.”

Jeff has the decency to look mildly apologetic. “Sorry,” Jeff says. He turns back to the tree and puts the hockey stick on it, then steps back. “But look at it now!” He holds out his arms and grins at Mike over his shoulder.

Mike has to admit that it does look better than when Mike left it—more balanced, somehow. At least, he has to admit it to himself. To Jeff he says, “I hope your marshmallows melt too fast for you to eat them,” and hands over his mug.

Jeff pulls a face at him, sticks out his tongue, and takes the mug. Mike uses his now free hand to give Arnie his little bowl of whip cream and then drops on the couch next to him. He rubs Arnie absentmindedly behind the ears as he watches Jeff carefully place the tinsel pieces on the tree.

“Have you always been this controlling about decorating the tree?” Mike asks. They’ve spent every Christmas together for the last five years—minus the one Jeff spent in Columbus, which they had spent on FaceTime, and which Jeff doesn’t like to talk about—but Mike has never seen Jeff rearrange the decorations before.

Jeff makes a “hmm” noise and takes a sip of his hot chocolate.  Mike watches him finish with the tinsel and make his way over to sit next to Mike on the couch. He slumps down low on the couch and Mike lifts his arm so Jeff can tuck himself next to Mike’s side.

“Normally I wait until you’re asleep or not home to fix the tree,” Jeff says, peeking up at Mike.

Mike is vaguely offended—how can his tree decorating skills be _that_ bad? Isn’t decorating a tree supposed to be fun?

“Are you mad?” Jeff asks, and now he actually does sound worried. “I can let you do that half again—“

“I’m not mad,” Mike interrupts him. And he’s really not; a little bit confused, sure, but Jeff’s being particular about how the tree is decorated isn’t worth being angry over. “But you’re kind of a nerd, you know.”

Jeff grumbles a little under his breath and elbows Mike in the side but he’s smiling.

“I can’t believe I’m marrying you,” Mike jokes, drawing an even bigger smile from Jeff.

“Can still change your mind,” Jeff answers as he leans even more into Mike.

“I think I’m good.” Mike leans down to give him a quick kiss. On his other side, Arnie nuzzles into Mike’s leg.

“You say that now,” Jeff says when they part. “But wait until I make you put up the lights.”

 

 

2016

The Kings are on a road trip a few weeks before Christmas, which leaves Richie without all that much to do while Jeff is gone. He does his usual daily routine with Arnie, he goes grocery shopping, he even manages to finish his Christmas shopping. He works out, watches movies, and finally catches up on Suits. He passes two and a half days before he runs out of things to do, and Jeff won’t be home until tomorrow.

So really, he tells himself as he heads up to their bedroom, the only thing he has left to do is to figure out where Jeff hid his Christmas presents.

The closet is an obvious choice but one Mike is obliged to check out, for the sake of the process of elimination. He opens the door to their closet and heads for Jeff’s side. There isn’t really anywhere Jeff could hide gifts, but he pokes around in Jeff’s drawers for a bit and comes up empty handed. Then he notices a shopping bag sticking out from under where Jeff’s shirts are hanging.

It’s a plain white paper bag with thin handles, but there’s a box inside, black and about the size of a shoe box. Mike smiles to himself and lifts the box out of the bag. Jeff must not have had time to find a better spot to hide this—he may as well have left it on Mike’s pillow.

Mike opens the box and his smile slips slightly. It’s empty inside except for a yellow sticky note stuck to the bottom. It reads, in Jeff’s messy lefty scrawl:

_the closet is a bit obvious isn’t it?_

Mike laughs to himself and places the box bag into the bag, tucking the bag back under the shirts. He keeps the note in his hand as he gets up and exits the closet.

He walks around to Jeff’s side of the bed and kneels. There’s another box under there, a plain brown one, that Mike pulls toward him. The note inside says:

_really?_

The upstairs guest bedroom yields two more notes ( _keep trying_ and _nope!_ ). The linen closet on the second floor is empty, too, but he finds a tall box in the hall closet on the first floor that he’s never seen before.

He slides it out easily—it’s not heavy, exactly, but it has some weight to it. It’s chest height for him, and not sealed with any tape, which makes this easier. He opens the box and laughs at what he sees.

It’s filled to the brim with packing peanuts, and on top sits a bright pink note.

_better check inside, just to be sure :)_

Mike closes the box back up and pushes it back into the closet. There are only so many spots Jeff can hide gifts, and Mike’s pretty sure he’s hit most, if not all, of them. Well, obviously not _all_ of them, but all the ones he can think of.

He wanders around the house for a little while longer; he’s already checked all the closets and under all the beds. He’d checked under the sinks and in every drawer that could reasonably fit a gift. He’d even checked in the cabinets above the washer and dryer, which had only turned up a blue sticky note that read:

_while you’re here, do your damn laundry_

He’d checked every room in the house and the deck, Arnie following him from room to room and watching him with what Mike was pretty sure was amusement, barking in a way that sounded more and more like laughter the longer Mike looked. The only place he hadn’t checked was the garage and Mike didn’t see the point of checking there. There wasn’t anything out there except their cars.

Mike gives Arnie a look. “What do you think, buddy?” He asks. Arnie cocks an ear. “Should I check Jeff’s trunk?”

Arnie barks and runs toward the front of the house. Mike takes it as a yes.

He grabs Jeff’s keys from the table in the foyer and heads to the garage. Mike had dropped Jeff off at the arena before he left on his roadie so that his car wouldn’t have to sit in the parking lot for four days. Arnie follows him around to the back of the car and barks when Mike pops the trunk.

There aren’t any boxes but there is an orange sticky note sitting in the middle of the bottom of the trunk. Shaking his head, Mike grabs it.

_now you’re getting creative :)_

Mike closes the trunk and laughs. “He knows me well, eh, Arnie?” He asks, reaching out to pet him. Arnie licks his hand in response, and Mike leads them back inside.

When he picks Jeff up from the Staples Center late the next night, he tosses the stack of sticky notes at him when he climbs into the car. “I hate you.”

Jeff laughs and shuffles through the sticky notes. “It’s not my fault you’re so predictable,” he says.

Mike grumbles under his breath and Jeff laughs again. Mike tries not to look at him out of the corner of his eye, because otherwise his fake angry act will crumble—it’s been four days since he’s seen Jeff’s smile and it’s not like he’s made of steel.

“I’m not telling you where they are,” Jeff says when they’re home and he’s caught on to Mike’s plan to kiss Jeff until he tells him what he wants to know. “Gifts are supposed to be a _surprise_ , Mike.”

Two days before Christmas, Mike is hanging out with Arnie on the couch, watching _River Monsters_ reruns when Jeff walks into the living room. His arms are laden with already wrapped gifts and he completely ignores Mike as he tucks them under his meticulously decorated tree.

He makes one more trip before he drops next to Mike on the couch. Mike glares at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jeff says. “It was for your own good. You know you like being surprised, I don’t know why you insist on trying to spoil yourself every year.”

Mike huffs out a sigh. He does like surprises, but only when he didn’t know they were coming. “I hate the anticipation,” he says, his glare already failing under Jeff’s smirk.

“That’s half the fun of Christmas presents,” Jeff says. Mike dodges his kiss.

“Where’d you hide them?”

Jeff gives him a long-suffering look. “If I tell you I’ll have to find a new place next year.”

He tries to kiss Mike again and Mike ducks away again. He raises his eyebrows at Jeff, and Arnie punctuates the look with a bark. “See,” Mike says, “We both want to know.”

Jeff sighs. He tucks his head into Mike’s shoulder and grumbles, “You’re lucky I love you.”

Mike smiles. It was almost too easy. “You and me both, buddy.”

Mike feels Jeff smile at that. “Ines offered to hide them for me,” Jeff says. “I went over there to wrap them this morning.”

Of course, Mike thinks. He couldn’t find them because they were never even in their house.

“The post-its were a good touch,” Mike says with a grin.

“Figured it would give you something to do while I was gone,” Jeff answers, lifting his head to look at Mike.

Mike pulls him back down for a kiss, one he smiles through entirely.

“I’ll make us hot chocolate,” Jeff says, pulling back and pushing himself up off the couch. Mike watches him walk into the kitchen, smiling to himself.

Somehow, every Christmas with Jeff manages to be better than the last.

“Hey, wait!” Mike calls after Jeff, getting up off the couch and following Jeff into the kitchen. “You better leave your damn mini marshmallows out of my hot chocolate!”

Jeff laughs loudly in the kitchen. Mike smiles again, because some things never change.


End file.
